Bright Side of Things
by Mouse in the Midnight
Summary: Steve/Reader. While Reader's little sister is watching her favourite cartoon, a lightning storm zaps their television set and somehow brings Steve into their world. Reader has enough problems of her own and has to find some way to send Steve back, but not before Steve can show her the bright side of things.


Finally you had made it home after a tedious day of work at that wretched office. The grey clouds that were gathering just over the roof of your small home mirrored the horrid mood that the day had left you with. All you wanted to do was flop on your couch and slumber for eternity. Sadly, there were bills left to pay, grimy dishes waiting to be washed, and no such luck to be had.

Your key got the idea that it wasn't going to fit in the doorlock today. As many times in one week as you came home and unlocked the door, one would think you would be able to do it in your sleep. Nope. But were you surprised? Clearly everything in the world had turned against you, even your own inanimate housekey. You yanked out and shoved back into the keyhole the stubborn piece of metal six times before the door finally consented and allowed you into your own messy house.

You tried your best not to slam the door shut behind you, but it just sort of happened, as did the exhausted groan that escaped your lips. Your hand, cramped from hours of filing and typing, wiped itself up and down your temples. In the next room you heard the old television playing fuzzily, and soon after that pounding footsteps.

"You're hooome!" Soft little arms wrapped themselves about your hips. Your little sister gave you a hug so tight, your bones released a soft pop of protest. Tiredly you patted her unkempt blond mane.

"Hey, Cass. Been home long?" You made your way into the living room, dropping your keys with a careless "clank" on the scratched-up coffeetable in front of the TV.

"Only…" Cassie paused, using her hands to count to herself. After a second or two longer, her round face lit up with pride as she positioned her hands like those of a clock to indicate time. "Thirty minutes!"

"Oh, good. I was afraid working overtime would have you sitting at home alone too long." You glanced at the program Cassie had been entertaining herself with while you had been managing to escape the pressures of your office job. "Watching Blue's Clues, eh?"

"Yeeeah." Your eight-year-old sibling plopped herself down on the couch behind the coffeetable. "I was helping Steve figure out what Blue wanted to do on the rainy day."

You gave an awkward smile, watching the man in the green-striped shirt behind the television screen half-dance, half-walk into a kitchen with a yellow wallpaper. "Uhhh, Cass, aren't you getting a little old for this show? I mean, it's for pre-schoolers and you're almost nine, kiddo."

"Shhh!" Cassie whirled around to face you, slamming her index finger aganst her pursed lips indignantly. "I have to help Steve find the last clue."

You frowned. "Steve isn't real, he's just a…" Your voice trailed off. You decided not to spoil Cassie's fun. She wasn't listening to you, anyway. She leapt off the couch with an almighty "THUD" and loudly proclaimed to the TV screen the location of the final blue pawprint.

You grimaced and pulled Cassie back from her victory dance. "Cassie! Stop jumping around. I can't pay for any holes you put in the floor, y'know. I can barely pay for dinner…"

But that was another story entirely, you thought. You sighed deeply and walked away from the ridiculous children's cartoon and into the kitchen. How could anyone call that show educational, anyway? A dorky guy in a tacky shirt, living in a goofy house with talking furniture and other assorted objects, who runs around looking for pawprints that his bossy dog leaves all over the place? A _blue_ dog, no less. What kind of rubbish were people brainwashing their kids with lately, you wondered?

You opened the poorly-stocked fridge and pulled out a freezer meal or two that you'd recently purchased. It wasn't necessarily healthy for a growing eight-year-old and a twenty-year-old that worked eighty hours a week, but it was the best you could provide right now. Your last paycheck had been spent nearly all on the power bill and your next paycheck wouldn't come for another three days. You liked to think that one day you were going to be able to save up for a better house, find a better job, and take better care of your little sister and yourself, but at this point it didn't seem like that was anywhere in the near future.

"… hey, Cass?" You called out across the hallway to the living room. You could hear the old VCR whirring as Cassie put her Blue's Clues tape on rewind. "C'mere a sec, kiddo, I wanna talk to ya."

Cassie stomped cheerfully across the cracked linoleum and into the cold tile of the kitchen. Her footsteps sounded heavier than she was, almost sounding like the thunder that had begun to roll outside your windows. "Yes, (Name)?"

"I think we should limit how much we use the TV for a while. Do you understand why?" You slit the plastic covering over one freezer meal and placed it in the grimy interior of the old microwave, letting it warm up for a few minutes, then turned and bent a little to meet Cassie's curious gaze. "Using the TV too much makes the power bill more expensive. And I haven't been bringing home enough to pay for it. See?"

"Ohhh. So no more falling asleep watching a movie, huh?" Cassie nodded, her brow furrowing as she pondered the situation being presented.

"Right… and maybe no more watching Blue's Clues as much." You tried to smile, bracing yourself for Cassie's reaction.

"What? But who will help Steve find the clues?" Cassie gasped, apalled that you would even suggest such a thing.

You shook your head. "Cassiiiie. Steve isn't going anywhere. He'll be right there waiting for you until I get some more money saved up and you can watch Blue's Clues again."

"You don't understaaand. Steve is hopeless." Cassie pouted. "He won't know where to look for the clues." In the other room, Cassie's tape had finished rewinding and was beginning to replay itself. You could hear the theme song playing and Steve's annoyingly happy voice calling out to the assumed audience of pre-schoolers.

You could feel your muscles winding up. The stress you had been trying to brush off all day was building up and manifesting in frustration that you were afraid would erupt towards Cassie. "Steve… Steve will have Mr. Salt, and Mrs. Pepper, and Shovel and Pail, and everyone else to help him until you can use the TV again."

"They're no good. He has to have me! I'm the only one who can help him find out what it is Blue wants to do."

"Cassie!" You stood up straight, flinging your arms briskly. "Steve is NOT real. BLUE is not real. They're not REAL. They're just cartoon characters! There's no such thing as Blue's Clues. It's just a stupid show made to pacify little kids. It's a complete waste of time and _my_ money. Sometime or later you're going to have grow up and realize that you can't just use your imagination and forget about all the bad things in life. Someday you're going to have to accept that life is horrible and there's not a thing you can do to change it!"

You breathed heavily, face flushed from releasing all your pent-up rage. Cassie gasped, her huge eyes filled with hurt. Thunder clapped loudly, and your microwave suddenly ceased to work. The lights blinked off for three seconds, and Cassie screamed. Whether her shriek was of terror or sadness, you couldn't tell, but once the light returned, you saw her usually rosy cheeks stained with several tears.

Your heart sank with regret, and you reached to touch her shoulder, but she flinched and pulled away from you, dashing into the living room. You watched her for a second before jumping at another horrendous thunder clap. You had been so worked up that you hadn't thought to prepare for the thunderstorm that had been so obviously gathering on the horizon. You sighed once more and pulled the microwave's cord from the power outlet, hoping the power blink hadn't fried the appliance. At least the freezer meal had been mostly cooked, and Cassie could have dinner… that is, if you hadn't upset her so much that she'd completely lost her appetite. Well, maybe she'd pout for a while, but what you'd said was truth. _Harsh, but truth_.

Another shriek came from Cassie, but this time it was undoubtedly out of terror. Your heart skipped a beat and your legs skipped five feet as you bolted out of the kitchen, across the hallway, and back into the living room where your little sister had fled.

Cassie was backed up into the couch, gaping up at a man in a green-striped shirt who stood in front of the blank TV screen. He turned to look at you, an absolutely bewildered expression muddling his features. You pounced in front of your little sister, grabbing whatever you could for defense, which happened to be an oversized flashlight.

"Who the heck are you and how did you get in here?" You demanded, trying not to let your voice crack with fear. Your mind raced, trying to remember if you'd made sure to lock the door when you'd first come in. This could have been all your fault. You'd yelled at Cassie and then you'd put her in complete danger of a perverted stalker who walks into people's houses.

The man blinked and made no move towards you or Cassie. He lifted a hand. You tensed, preparing to swing the flashlight at him like a bat. He simply waved.

"I'm Steve."


End file.
